


Spared

by itstheallmother



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Baby Tony, Gen, Merchant of Death Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Tony Angst, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark-centric, anyway y'all asked for this!!!! I delivered, lmao "original personified death character" im YELLING, not even death cannot cave to this sweet motherfracker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-23 00:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17672552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstheallmother/pseuds/itstheallmother
Summary: Tony Stark was not supposed to be there.But there he was.And maybe Death was wrong about this, but something certainly felt right about letting her Anthony off the hook again, and again, and again.





	Spared

**Author's Note:**

> Posting my OP from tumblr while also adding a bit on it for the story to flow better. Hope you guys enjoy!  
> This is also a major thanks to jess aka @lovelyirony on tumblr for hyping me up enough to post this. I love you jessie :')
> 
> OK ONTO THE ANGST WE GO

Tony Stark is born within a rage in his own house.

The maids are yelling, his mother is crying and shaking and crushing the poor butler's hand. Edwin Jarvis doesn't make a sound, however, other than muttering "there, there he is, Miss, hang in there-" soothingly over Maria Stark's shoulder as she pushes. His wife Ana is helping the doctor - Howard would never trust a simple midwife with his only heir, after all - deliver the youngest Stark, while the room is filled with people Maria doesn't even know, doesn't recognize, and Howard-

Well, Howard is nowhere to be seen. Jarvis can’t help but think it’s for the best. To stop these thoughts, he allows himself to feel his hand surely being damaged.

It's pitch black outside when the first strong cry is loudly echoing off the walls of the Stark mansion. Maria smiles, sighs a relieved breath and proceeds to immediately faint before she even gets the chance to hold her son - a son that's healthy, strong, and has the darkest black tuffs of hair Edwin had ever seen on a baby. 

He signs the naming papers hastily and empties the room as quickly as possible, cradles the child in his arms as soon as the nurses are done cleaning him off, and Ana, for all her sweetness and persistence, can absolutely not peel her husband off of him.

"The young Sir should be held" he whispers, strictly punctuating every word, and wipes a tear promptly. "All babies should be held”.

And that's that.

The house is quiet when Howard comes home about two hours later, sweaty and positively stinking of alcohol. Jarvis tries to bite his cheek instead of speaking up, but he’s already been tasting copper. He watches as the new father comes closer to the cradle, takes a long look inside of it and he almost flinches when Howard stretches a finger to caress the baby. Anthony is sleeping peacefully, completely still in his blue sheets.

“Anthony, Tony" is all he says, and for the first time in a long time, Edwin thinks he can hear the faintest gleam of genuine happiness in his Master's voice. The similarities are already clear between them, he is sure of it, and once again, decides to ignore that thought. Howard stands and stares at his only son for no longer than three minutes, then turns around and leaves the room, snorting goodheartedly at Jarvis for choosing to stay overnight.

"Spoiling him already, I see” his Master tells him, and the butler smiles. They both knew they wouldn’t have to hire a nanny. The door closes swiftly and the only sound in the room is now the rocking of young Sir's - Tony's, his name is Tony - cradle, as Edwin is drifting off beside him.

 

The first time Death saw Anthony Edward Stark, nothing had gone accordingly.

It was probably a glitch in the system, some kind of mistake, Death figured, since it had already been adamantly decided by the Fates that Howard Stark was not supposed to become a father.

Maybe Life had finally felt for his wife, Maria, and decided to send her one last gift - one last spark of light before her life inevitably disappeared into darkness.

It was Death’s job, as usual, to fix these kinds of mistakes.

Not bothering with a human form in the middle of the night, Death slipped inside the dark nursery, wrapped in a cloak of shadows. Breathing over the baby's caretaker's eyes, she made sure no one would stop this before balance was restored. The mother of the child surely didn't need her tricks, exhausted and in pain already, but Death sent a heavy jasmine breath her way, too, just to be safe. Floating over the white cradle, she slowly approached the tiny human, preparing for sobs to escape his mouth.

They never came.

Instead, an incredibly small, pink hand emerged from the soft pile of blankets, and reached out to her. The warmth spilled across her being as Anthony took in her sight with wonder. Death stared right back at the oblivious infant in disbelief.

This had never happened before.

Babies and generally, children, used to cry immediately when an unknown person entered their room, let alone Death in her natural form; a tall, dark shadow with flaming eyes, and a bone-chilling aura surrounding her. 

And yet, Anthony only stared right back at her, blinking slowly, and raised both hands up to the figure with a huff, his pink cheeks puffing. His curious eyes suddenly didn’t seem oblivious at all. Instead, he seemed like he was…studying her?

“Interesting” Death murmured, and picked up the infant carefully. The small bundle let out a sigh and, by the Fates, actually nestled in her neck. Death would shudder, had she been able to.

Is he one of them? She thought. And then, immediately, can I really risk it if he’s not?

Yeah, she knew all about her gifted children, her "wonders", as she called them; the entire world knew, usually by the time they’d reached adolescence. She’d never been able to explain what it was she saw in them, and it was never quite the same thing; smarts, kindness, charisma, beauty, determination, heroism - the list went on forever and got tangled up in the way, in most cases.

But every single time it was so loud and clear to her, that she would never forget feeling it. Those kids went on to do amazing things in life, shaping the world in a new and better and extraordinary way-

Or they ended up absolutely destroying it in the quest of meaning, power, understanding, or simply by just existing.

That was usually where she came in, fixing the damage she'd done by sparing them in the first place.

It made sense - Death had two kinds of sides to her, after all; the side that forgave, saved, freed, the death necessary for balance to succesfully exist. And the side that had no choice but to hurt, destroy, sink and deflower and wrong because that was simply what had to be done.

But in the quiet of the room, as Anthony rested his head on her shoulder, eyes still wide open but slowly drifting shut in comfort - not at all bothered by the cold or unsettled by a stranger holding him, Death knew she couldn’t go through with her mission this one time.

Something made little Anthony special, and his life would have to unfold further for that something to be revealed. 

But the price was always higher for the lives that got spared. Death shook her head.

Hopefully, his something was a good one.

“We will meet again, Anthony” she said, and set the baby back into his crib before taking off by the open window.

Maybe, just maybe, Maria Stark could have this for a while longer.


End file.
